


Night Air (Salty Tofu x Reader)

by foodfantasies (hereisnowhy)



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Female Master Attendant (Food Fantasy), Light Angst, M/M, Male Master Attendant (Food Fantasy), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereisnowhy/pseuds/foodfantasies
Summary: Your crush on Salty Tofu was starting to cause tension between the two of you — only because you were too shy and embarrassed to tell him how you felt before tonight.No gendered pronouns used when referring to the reader.Content advisory: suggestive themes and language (cursing).
Relationships: Master Attendant/Salty Tofu (Food Fantasy), Reader/Salty Tofu (Food Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Night Air (Salty Tofu x Reader)

You opened your eyes in a dark room, completely awake.   
_Ugh, not again.  
_This was the fourth night in a row that you’d suddenly woken up, each time so immediately alert it was as if you hadn’t been asleep at all. Turning to face your bedroom window you saw it was still pitch dark outside. You thought of spending the next few hours here in bed like you had the previous nights, tossing and turning, bored and anxious. You’d be lucky if you got back to sleep at all. Especially since you’d be spending these sleepless hours trying fruitlessly to get Salty Tofu’s heterochromic eyes out of your mind. Trying to stop thinking about him lying just in the other room, so close and yet so utterly out of reach.

With a heavy sigh you sat up and climbed out of bed, stripping off your pajamas and pulling on a pair of tights. 

Your feelings for your Food Soul were becoming a problem.   
You were starting to care too much. His flippant taunts and teases were sparking hope in you, only to immediately snuff it out when nothing came of them. Being around him was draining you. Your desire for him was distracting. Worst of all, he probably knew how you felt - he’d barely been speaking to you lately, and you figured your nervous and awkward behavior was a likely cause.

You buttoned up a long coat and wrapped your favorite scarf around your neck. It had been raining when you went to bed, but you judged by the silence outside that it had stopped. A walk might clear your head.

 _Wonder if Salty is awake_ , you thought absently.

* * *

Salty Tofu _was_ awake, as he frequently was during the late hours. He was lying in bed, arms crossed behind his head, music blaring through headphones.  
Around the same time you woke up, the song changed. It was _the_ song — the one that always made him think about you. As soon as he heard the opening chords he felt a tightness in his chest. 

_This fucking song._

Your face was in his mind in an instant; smiling at him, scowling at him, it didn’t matter, as long as it was you and your eyes were on him he was happy. But god, he wanted more. Teasing you just wasn’t enough. And it seemed to him lately that even as his need for you intensified, you were pulling away from him, hiding your feelings from him. He didn’t understand, and it made him furious.

He wanted to tell you how he felt. He wanted you to know it. And then he wanted to make sure you never forgot it. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled in frustration, yanking his headphones off.

He did so just in time to hear your footsteps down the hall, followed by the sound of jangling keys. He hopped out of bed and opened his bedroom door.   
You were standing by the front door, dressed to go out: boots, tights, a long overcoat and scarf.   
“Where are you going?” he asked irritably.   
“Going for a walk. I can’t sleep.”   
“I’m going with you,” he said, “I can’t have my favorite toy out wandering this late all alone.”

Normally you blushed when he said things like that. You didn’t now, and it reminded him that something was wrong, something he couldn’t define and therefore couldn’t control.   
“If I asked you to stay behind, would you?” you said suddenly. He stared at you, brows furrowed, not even angry, just… confused.   
“If I told you I wanted to go by myself,” you went on, your voice uncharacteristically firm, “Would you listen to me?”   
“Well… yeah,” he said gruffly. Caught off-guard, he had nothing to fall back on but the truth. This wasn’t like you; normally, you were always so happy to have him along. He could always count on you to seek him out. But the look on your face when you asked him this was new. He didn’t know what to do.

Your eyes softened for just a moment. You looked away, tossed your keys in the air and caught them.

“Let’s go,” you said.

* * *

You walked along in silence. Salty kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to catch you doing the same to him, but you never did. Your aloof attitude was making him feel like a kid - a stupid, clueless kid, desperate for your attention. He hated it.

The streets were slick with rainwater and choked with sodden leaves. You kept your eyes on the ground, lost in your own thoughts. You didn’t really have a destination in mind - you just wanted to walk, to be outside and feel the sharp chill of the night air on your face. You wished you had asked Salty to stay behind, and cursed your weakness for him — this walk was supposed to help you get him _off_ of your mind.

Eventually, you came across a small park and playground you recognized. It was close to your house, but it had been years since you'd been here. It looked eerie under the dim orange glow of the streetlights, the twisted structures extending limbs still dripping with rainwater and creating deep pockets of shadow.

Your boots crunched over wet wood chips as you headed towards the swings. You looked up at the sky - no moon, no stars. Just clouds hanging low and heavy with the threat of rain.

You leaned your back up against one of the poles of the swing structure and watched Salty’s approach. He was just catching up, his hands stuffed in his pockets, breath clouding in the freezing night air. The silence was broken by the distant rumble of thunder. His odd-colored eyes flickered across your face in hesitant curiosity, but still he said nothing.   
It was so fucking quiet. Why didn’t he say something? Anything? Was he following you like this just to torment you?   
“Why did you come?” you asked him abruptly.   
Your flurry of emotions reaching a fever pitch, you had flung yourself, out of desperation, into anger - that was something you understood, something you could deal with.

Salty, too, knew anger better than he knew fear or longing, and therefore it was his knee-jerk reaction to your hostility.   
“What the fuck do you mean, why did I come?” he snapped back. “I came because I didn’t want you to be by yourself. It’s late. It’s-“   
“Why bother caring tonight? Were you just bored?” you interrupted. 

He balked. What the fuck was this attitude from you out of nowhere? He came to keep you safe. He came to protect you. You were his. Nothing bad was allowed to happen to you. Why didn’t you already know this?   
His nostrils flared, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair in exasperation.

“Look, if you want me to go, I’ll go,” he grumbled, “If you hate being around me so much—“   
“Hate being around you?” you echoed incredulously. “God, Salt, you know that’s not it. You _know._ ”   
“No, I don’t fucking know. What, I’m supposed to _know_ why you’ve been avoiding me? I’m supposed to _know_ why you’ve been acting like a kicked puppy all week?”   
His posture was rigid, aggressive, his shoulders arched like the raised hackles of a snarling animal. 

You were tired. So fucking tired. Arguing with him wasn’t making you feel any better. Avoiding him wasn’t making you want him any less. You were tired of fighting, tired of hiding. The truth rose up in your chest like a wave swelling at sea and came crashing down with equal force, unstoppable, inevitable.   
“It’s because _I want you so fucking bad_ ,” you cried, “I want you, and you know it, but you don’t care.”   
He took a half step towards you, but you couldn’t stop the flow of words now that they’d begun; they poured from you independent of will, in defiance of caution or reason. “And if you do care,” you spat bitterly, “I wish you’d actually do something to prove it instead of running your mouth and making me wonder if you actually mean anything you fucking say.”

He was on you in a flash, his hands pressing hard on either side of your head as he pulled you into his kiss, his mouth pushing against yours. Your body stiffened with shock, sucking in frigid air through your nose in a muffled gasp, but as his lips closed hungrily over yours again and again you eagerly parted your lips to receive him. Your body melted into his, and you were no longer aware of anything save the feeling of his cold lips and warm breath.   
The two of you were utterly lost. You kissed as if drinking deeply from each other, as if to draw out with your passion the bitterness and anger that had poisoned you both. His kiss was as unpredictable as he was; one moment tender, the next ferocious, his tongue caressing yours, his metal piercing biting into the soft skin of your lips.   
Another peal of thunder cracked overhead. You felt him trembling against you and it wasn’t until a few moments later that you understood why — his silent laughter finally broke out into audible chuckles, but he hadn’t yet pulled back from your kiss.

Since the moment you’d said you wanted him he was on fire. He had first felt a bolt of joy from head to toe, even wondering for a second if he’d been struck by the lightning that split the sky overhead. Then came frustration, his anger sparking like a match at the caliber of the misunderstanding between the two of you. Indignance soon followed, outrage that he’d ever doubted your feelings at all, that he’d been made to feel so insecure. These things had weighed him down and wrenched control from his grasp, and to him, control was _everything_. His need now to reclaim it was only eclipsed by his all-consuming desire to exert it over you.   
Uncertainty was vanquished — he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. A euphoric sense of power coursed through him as he savored the knowledge that he could claim you at any moment.

“Oh, you’ve been so, _so_ bad,” he murmured against your lips, another bout of laughter following the words. “I’ve been going crazy for weeks wondering what the fuck was up with you.”   
“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you wanted me, I-“   
“Of course I want you. ‘My favorite toy,’ remember?”   
You hummed with delight as he nuzzled your face and swept a hand over your hair, pulling you close into an embrace. He turned his head and brushed his lips against the shell of your ear.  
“But such a naughty toy needs to be punished,” he growled. His wicked words made you shiver — yes, there it was, that cocky, aggressive, maddeningly sexy persona of his.  
“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he went on in a whisper, and as you whimpered an obedient reply he nipped at your ear and giggled.   
“Good,” he crooned, “But you know we can’t play here.”   
He grabbed your wrist, biting his lip as he grinned at you; you felt he’d never looked more beautiful or more dangerous than he did in that moment. He pulled you along and you followed him home, both of you splashing through puddles as you went, still high on the taste of each other and breathless with the rapid beating of your hearts.

The rest you remember in fragments. 

Standing on the front porch, fumbling with your keys in the lock and dropping them; his snort of laughter, your mumbled curse. 

Reaching blindly for the light switch, instead his hand finding yours in the dark and holding it tight, guiding you down the hallway to his room. 

Your back crashing up against the door as he pinned you there, his lips on your neck, his knee between your legs, his hands all over you. 

And the faint click of the stereo as he turned it on, wailing guitars shattering the silence, manic percussion pounding in your head and echoing the hammering of your heart as he pulled you down into his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and supporting my work.  
> If you like what I’m creating, please follow me on Tumblr for updates: tumblr.com/foodfantasies


End file.
